Moving On
by accidentalartistry
Summary: Rachel Berry has been dead for seventeen years, unable to move on. She is drawn back to Lima, where the death of Kurt Hummel awaits her. Moving on is never simple. WARNING: Character deaths. AU. One-shot. For Kelly and Marcus


**Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Co. **

…

Rachel Berry has seen a lot of things in her seventeen years being dead.

She's seen births and marriages and parties. She's seen the joy of a class graduating, and the victorious feel of winning a soccer game. She's seen the endless bliss the girl is immediately transported into when her boyfriend proposes.

Most commonly, she sees death.

It happens every day, and there is no where for her to truly avoid it. So she turns away from it; watches a few happy turns for a day.

It always comes back.

She knows she shouldn't be here at all. That she should have been ready upon death to accept full status as an angel. That she shouldn't hover around earth.

She can't help it.

_Nothing good will come, _they warned her. _You'll be forced to re-live your death over and over. You will see the suffering of your parents, the heartache of your friends. You don't need to witness it. Watching it would be painful for you._

They don't know that's exactly what she desires.

She knows her life was cut off to early- seventeen. She had only just learned how to drive. She had never had a boyfriend. She'd never been to New York. No one outside of her school knew who she was, and even those were seldom.

She blames the driver.

Had she not gotten into that taxi that night, with that clearly drunken man…she wouldn't even be watching over, trying to live out the life she never had the chance to.

She knows that she can't move on until she's done so.

So she follows the lives of others- sees their triumphs and sorrows, and tries to live vicariously through them. Hoping, still waiting, for everything she ever wanted to be achieved. Knowing it never would be. Still clinging onto the hope it's all a mistake.

As she goes along, death brushes against her quite often. She is scared of it, and so feels compelled to run. It is the one part of her life she refuses to go through again. She does a fairly good job for seventeen years, always avoiding it, or fleeing the moment it comes near.

Then on one quiet day in Lima, Ohio, Kurt Hummel passes away in his sleep.

…

She doesn't know why she's back to her home town again. She comes every few months, and each time, swears to never return.

She was never great at keeping promises.

It's her dads she has to see most of all. She visits them every time, but only briefly; glancing through the doorway into the kitchen, and finding one of them at the table. Going up to the window to see the other, sitting on the bed, reading the paper.

After only a moment, she is gone.

This time, she takes a quick detour, and heads to her old school. William McKinley.

Oh, the memories encased in this place. All the secrets she never had the chance to tell the world of what really happened there.

There is a group of kids huddled together on some steps. They all stare blankly ahead, as if searching for something in the open air. They hold their arms around their chests as if they're shivering. Rachel thinks it looks more like they're trying to keep from falling apart.

Suddenly, an Asian girl bursts into tears. Another boy, also Asian, holds her close, whispering in her ear and stroking her hair. She wipes her eyes, and glares at everyone around her.

"You guys are heartless," she says bitterly.

"Heartless?" a skinny blonde girl with green eyes demands. "How are we heartless?"

"Kurt is g-g-gone!" she gasps. "And none of you can ever cry."

The girl with the green eyes stares at the ground. "I've never been much of a crier. I prefer to think things through." She turns on Tina. "But don't you dare say I have no heart. I am taking this just as bad as you are. You have no idea, Tina. This is horrible on everyone."

Tina bursts into tears again, and the other Asian boy glares at the girl. "Can't you lay off, Quinn?"

Quinn picks up her bag and swings it over her shoulder. "I'm…going to go. Someone…call me with the arrangements."

With her held high, she walks on.

Still remaining in the group is a dark skinned girl who is now shaking her head and muttering, "no," repeatedly, another blonde haired cheerleader, a boy with a Mohawk, who keeps mouthing words no one can understand.

Rachel wonders who this Kurt boy is. She wonders where he went.

It hits her a moment later.

She's nearly gone in a flash. But something holds her back. She turns to look at the remaining kids, wondering if there is anything she could do to help.

_No, there's not. You're dead. _

Instead, she follows Quinn.

…

Quinn's house is in one of the fanciest parts of town- the upper end. It's grand and beautiful, but Rachel gets the impression no one loves this house. Perhaps it once tried to be loved, but it must have later proved impossible.

Quinn opens the door, and Rachel follows after, watching as the girl rests her bag on a small table next to the door, and heads up the stairs to her room. She is clearly not going up to do schoolwork, and brings nothing else with her.

She slips through into her bedroom.

Quinn pulls out a small pillow that she sets on the ground. She touches her hand once to her forehead, her chests, and each of her shoulders. She folds her hands and stares straight ahead.

It takes Rachel a moment to realize she is praying.

"God," Quinn whispers, her voice low and trembling, "Kurt is gone. You've…take him, but I'm not sure why. I've never understood that. Why somehow, God would take such good people from the world before they've even had the chance to live."

Rachel has though about this, too.

"I can't believe it's because he's gay, God. You made him that way. He is who he is because that's how you created him. You're supposed to love, not hate. You wouldn't hurt someone for a crime that never existed in the first place. No. You wouldn't.

"I'm not sure I understand religion as much as I'd like to pretend. I don't know why people can't all live to the same age, or why diseases and disasters happen. I know it's all part of your plan. I just don't know why your plan couldn't be any better.

"I don't understand, and Lord, I never will. The only thing I can do is ask for you to forgive him. He didn't believe in you, God. He thought it was all made up. He was a good person, though. He was always helping us out with our wardrobes, and he had an enormous heart. I can only ask you to save him. I can only ask that you watch over his family right now, especially his father, Burt. Please."

She does the same sign she does at the beginning, and gets up. Slowly, carefully, she makes her way to the bed, and in a moment, has crashed down upon it.

The tears begin to flow then, and Rachel has to leave. She knows this is a moment she has no right to witness. That she had right to view any of that.

…

If there had ever been a better time to give up her crazy desires of earth, now would be it. She could move on. Escape from the fear of death forever, and never again have to face the sorrow of another's loss.

Yet that feeling- the one that tells her she has something to complete, that her life shouldn't be over just yet- appears, and it takes over her. Ignoring it is impossible, as it as all she has embraced for the past seventeen years.

She wonders where to go next, but finally decides to find the dark skinned girl again, in hopes of finding who the boy named Kurt was.

Finding the girl is fairly easy. She simply wanders back to the school grounds, and sees the girl heading off to the park, a previously unseen Latina girl matching her paces. They choose a bench, and stare at the ground as they did on the steps, as if trying to comprehend something.

"It really happened, didn't it?" the Latina girl asks.

"Yeah. It did," the other girl says, nodding.

The Latina one wrings her hands together. "So…what do we do?"

"I guess we just wait," the dark girl says. "What else can we do, Santana?"

Santana sighs. "I know." She turns to her friend. "Mercedes…"

Mercedes holds up her hand. "Honestly, Santana…I think I need to be alone right now. I'll…see you at school." She gets up and starts to walk away.

Santana folds her hands and looks at the sky, as if expecting to find the answers up there.

"I'm a lesbian," she says suddenly, and Rachel suddenly grows more alert. She's sure her surprise would have been evident on her face, if anyone were able to see her.

"Yeah, I am. I love Brittany, actually. I do. I thought it was something terrible sometimes before. And now Kurt is gone…and he's not coming back. Blaine is going to be devastated. Blaine is his boyfriend. They were in love. I suppose they still are, even if one half of that party is missing. But Blaine will love him forever. I know that much.

"Used to make me a little bit sick, seeing how much they cared about each other. Maybe it was jealously, though. I have no idea. All I knows is that Kurt was able to be himself- open, strong, and brave. I wasn't. And…maybe that should change. Or I should make an effort."

Santana closes her eyes and lays her head back, as if about to sleep. And coincidentally, a few minutes later, she does just that.

Rachel has to smile.

…

Perhaps she knows a little more about this Kurt now. He was gay, or at least bi- she knows that much. He clearly had a tight knit group of friends. He went to the same high school she did.

But she doesn't really know who he is. She has no idea where he was born, what his talents were, or even what he looked like. She finds herself desperate to find out.

This new desire surprises her. She truly hasn't wanted anything like this since her real time on earth, before the accident.

It occurs to her that maybe- just maybe- finding this out, and piecing together the puzzle, is what she needs to move on.

It's a vain hope, but she clings to it.

…

Perhaps it was fate that happened to lead her to the neighbourhood Kurt had lived in for his entire life. Or simply her trek through the entire city, attempting to find a home where it appears someone had recently died.

At times like this, she is nearly thankful she's dead.

At some point, she comes across a house with flowers suddenly mounted against the door. She sees several neighbours peek out of their houses, glancing at it, and takes a guess that this is it.

She literally glides through the door, and feels a cold sensation. She's always hated walking through things. It's mostly the reason she likes to wait until someone opens whatever it is.

On the couch, in the living room, sits a man who hovers near fifty, wearing a flannel jacket and old jeans, crying into his hands. Another woman watches from the doorway, her hand over her mouth.

Rachel is tempted to go comfort the man, before she remembers he isn't even able to see her. She takes a step back, a sad smile on her face.

She can only assume this is Kurt's father.

It occurs to her as she goes up some stairs that she doesn't know Kurt's last name.

On her way, she glances into a room that is all greens and browns, no colour, really. There are band and sports posters on the wall. On the bed sits on lies a tall boy with brown hair, who stares up at the ceiling.

"What do I do?" he says aloud, and Rachel realizes this must have been his brother. She takes a step forward, and gently touches his cheek.

He doesn't respond, of course. He can't sense her presence in any way, and this brings a new wave of sadness over her.

"Hey," she whispers. "I know this is hard. Losing someone is never easy. But I can tell you for sure he's going to be just fine. He's going to be able to go on. Unlike me."

She smiles at him, and before she thinks, leans down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

There is once again no response, but she smiles anyway.

…

Kurt's room is actually just down the hall. As soon as she steps in, she can tell it's his, without even needing to find a name written down.

There is a big bed in the middle, and the whole thing is light and airy. It gives her good vibes to simply be in there.

She goes over to a desk lying in the corner, and attempts to pick up a small notebook, realizing that it will fall through at just the last second. It drops through, and she gets that unpleasant cold feeling again.

Pieces of paper lie scattered over the desk, though, so she glances through without touching, knowing that her hand would end up in the middle of the desk.

_Kurt Hummel+ Blaine Anderson_

The small doodle with hearts around it surprises her, but then makes her smile, instantly reminding her of the school girl crushes she dealt with. Perhaps Kurt was a romantic.

_Kurt Hummel._

So that was his name. It's a nice name. It sounds like it would belong on him, despite that she still hasn't seen a picture of him.

_Blaine Anderson._

Maybe he could have one.

…

Blaine Anderson is not exceptionally hard to find. Along with the heat doodle, his address is scattered among the mess, and she stares at it, memorizing it on the spot. She'd always prided herself on her wonderful memory.

Death hadn't changed that much for her.

It takes over an hour to walk, as this boy- Blaine Anderson- lives in Westerville. She could attempt flight, but that is another aspect of ghost life she's never taken a fancy to.

This time, she has to go through a window to get in, and thinks of the injuries an alive person would get from that.

Luckily, the window leads straight into Blaine's room, but he isn't there.

She sits down on the bed, deciding she'll wait it out.

After an hour or so, however, when no one comes, she nearly gives up and starts out.

The door slams open.

A boy with curly brown hair and hazel eyes comes into the room, his face haggard and worn. His eyes appear ancient. He takes a deep breath, before going into the bathroom to wash his hands. She hears the water running.

He emerges, and sits down on a chair, grabbing a book.

He doesn't read. Instead, he stares down at the front cover, as if it was God, and he was worshipping. For the longest time, he does nothing except sit still, staring.

At some point later, he gets up. Whether hours or seconds passed she isn't aware. Only aware that she feels this boy's pain the way she felt the pain of all the others.

He grabs an old scrap book, and flicks through it, smiling occasionally. She attempts to view a picture, but he blocks it from her view.

Finally, he tosses it next to him on the bed. Then he goes back into the bathroom, this time turning the shower on. She feels as if he'll be in there for a long while.

Rain to mask the tears.

…

A few days later, there is a funeral.

This is the one thing she swore she would stay away from. Once again, she did not know this boy. They weren't close. This was for family and friends to mourn him, not some dead girl trying to give some aspect of her semi-existence meaning.

Rachel could never keep a promise.

She stands in the far back, her arms folded. She's worried for a minute that the clothes she died in were perhaps not appropriate for a funeral, but then reasons that she can't change without her hand going through the clothes, and that no one is going to see her, anyway.

She watches as they all go up to the closed casket. Some say a prayer, others stand there and stare, and many weep quietly. Blaine, his brother, his father, and Mercedes all rest in the third category.

She watches as people talk, or hold each other, or simply look at the ground in the presence of a companion.

Yet, she still feels like an intruder.

Somehow, knowing any information about this boy, or anyone he knew personally, just feels _wrong. _She no longer feels as if going through this in a different way will help her move on; she only feels alone.

She is.

…

Moving on. Something she was both thrilled and terrified over. To accept her death, and go…wherever they go. She isn't quite sure what happens to angels, really. Does everyone even become an angel? If not, are there others who are just ordinary? Who decides? Is there anyone who can't move on?

After seventeen more years on earth than she was allotted, she still doesn't know the answers to those questions.

Perhaps these years were a waste of time for her. She hasn't lived her life fully through someone else's, and attempting to give herself one last tie on earth, or perhaps just to finally face the fate she's always been so scared of, truly didn't work.

No one else is there. She has to do this one alone.

"Hardly," comes a voice.

Kurt Hummel has very nice eyes.

…

He's a very handsome boy, really. Tall, with chestnut brown hair perfectly coiffed, and eyes which have a colour she can never remember the name of.

"Glasz."

She glances up at him. "Are you reading my mind?"

He shrugs. "Not really. But when someone is giving you a physical analysis, it's pretty easy to spot." He smiles, and holds out his hand. "Kurt Hummel."

She nods, but doesn't take it. "I know."

"I know you know. I've been watching you."

She allows a tiny flicker of a smile in return. "I thought I was the one being the stalker."

"No, it was you, really- but when someone is following around all your friends and family, you tend to get curious." He raises an eyebrow. "Why were you doing that, exactly?"

"I barely know you. I don't know if you should know that."

"All right. Then don't tell me. But remember, Rachel- yes, I know your name- we've got all eternity."

She lets out a breath of air, allowing it to blow her bangs into the air. "Okay. If you'd like to know, I died seventeen years ago-"

"Suicide?"

She shakes her head. "Drunk taxi driver."

"Ah." He nods for her to continue.

"Ever since, I've lived here. On earth. I thought I couldn't go…on until I had lived out the life I believed I should have on earth. I did so by seeing other people, imagining it was me. I was told I should leave, but I couldn't make myself. I wanted just a few more seconds.

"Death followed me often. It was everywhere. People were always dying, and that was the part I was so afraid to see again. I avoided it for a very long time. It was manageable. I didn't have to re-live that part, and convinced myself that one day, I would move on.

"I went to visit my old school- yours too, now- a few days ago. There were a few people, and they mentioned your death. I didn't know who you were, but I felt…drawn to it. I think I was a little reminded of myself. I thought that maybe, if I found out who you were, and what happened to you, and experience it through the eyes of others, then maybe I could be able to finally move on.

"It didn't work, because I realized that in the end, I wasn't part of this. It wasn't me, and I wasn't re-living anything. The whole time, I suppose I didn't really believe I deserved a longer life. You take what you get. In was afraid, though. Afraid of the unknown.

"Knowing who you were wasn't going to let me move on- I needed actual will power to do that, not some supposed fulfilled mission. What mission was I fulfilling, exactly? You died at a young age, like me. But maybe I meant to give my life some purpose before I went."

"It only made me feel worse. I had no reason to be included, because I wasn't. I'm dead, after all." She takes a deep breath. "God, I don't think I've ever admitted that to myself."

He tilts his head around. "So, do you know if there's a heaven?"

Rachel shrugs. "I can't say. I've never tried. But there are angels. If the place they're in is called heaven, then yes, I suppose there is a heaven." She smiles. "For God, I don't know."

He nods. "Right, so you have no idea what you're doing."

She sighs, and sits down on the ground. He flops down next to her.

"Nope," she says, and grins. "I guess I never really did." She pauses. "Hey, Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you die?"

He breathes in sharply, and she wonders briefly if it's still too raw for him.

"I died of hepatitis. It got worse and worse, and in my sleep one night, I died. It's fairly simple." He laughs bitterly. "Perhaps not to everyone else."

"Do you miss them?"

He gives her a funny look. "Of course I do. It hurts me right now. My dad has Carole and Finn, but he's lost his son. I was Mercedes' best friend. Finn's only brother. And I loved Blaine more than I've ever loved anyone in the world. I still do."

She allows herself a small smile. "You inspired a lot of people, I think."

"Yeah?" he asks, smiling back.

"Of course," she says, nodding. "Santana said something about coming out, and your brother- sorry, Finn- was just looking so lost…and Blaine looked as if someone had torn his heart to shreds."

He's silent for a minute.

"Thank you, Rachel."

She doesn't question his gratitude, just accepts it.

"So, how do we do this?" he asks.

"Do what?" she asks, her face twisting up in a surprised look.

"You described it as 'moving on'," he says with a shrug. "I figured you might have some knowledge about it."

"Oh," she says after a pause. "I see."

"Don't tell me you're not ready," he says suddenly, and she places her head in her hands.

"I don't know," she mutters quietly.

Kurt sighs, and again holds out a hand, getting off the ground. He pulls her up.

"Come on. We'll go on a little trip."

…

"That's your dads, Rachel," he says, pointing in her former house. There they are, eating dinner. She still feels a stab of pain at the sight.

"I hate seeing them like this," she says quietly.

"Exactly. Maybe if you left earth…you wouldn't have to."

"No," she says, shaking her head, "I'll still be able to see them."

"Yes, you will. But I don't think you'll feel their sadness- only their happiness at having had you."

"Can we look at your friends?"

He gives her a pained look. "It's a little soon for that, Rachel. I'm still dealing with this. But I want to go. Please. You wanted to find out who I was? Now you know. You can give me the strength to go on. We could do it together. Whatever lies there…it'll be all right. Rachel, you don't need to run from death. You've already faced it. It's been conquered by you; you're simply scared of the unknown, or even the impossible." He turns her to face him. "Someone's looking out for you, Rachel, and they're going to keep doing so. You can do it."

She smiles again at him, staring into his face. "Maybe I did need to do this. Maybe, now that you're here, I can go. Maybe I did have some meaning in my life." She breathes in deeply. "All right. I'm ready to go out there. I'm rather tired of seeing death."

…

**Sometimes, when you lose someone, there aren't a whole lot of spoken words to describe it, so you put it in the written form.**

**A few weeks ago, a very close friend of my family died. She was a very good friend of my mother's, and the mother of my childhood best friend. She died from hepatitis. **

**This was my way of letting these feelings out. Perhaps to give a final good bye. I know neither could ever see it, but this is for them. I'm sorry if it made very little sense- Rachel became confusing to me at one point, and I stopped understanding completely what I was trying to say here. It started out much better than it ended, I'm aware, and the middle was sort of boring, but I hope you were able to bear with me this far.**

**If you could keep them in your thoughts and/or prayers, that would be incredible, even though you certainly don't have to.**

**Lots of love,**

**Kathleen **


End file.
